Holmes' Sweet Home'
by embracetheweird
Summary: 'Watson never meant to find them. it was an accident, a mistake, but it had ruined everything.' a story of Holmes' childhood and what happens when Dr. Watson finds out.
1. Chapter 1

'Holmes' Sweet Home'

**Hey everyone! This is my first fanfic so I would appreciate all the constructive criticism I could get and encouragement in the form of a review would be nice as well. But, anyway, this first chapter is disgracefully small and I am truly sorry but I can promise that all the others will be a lot longer, this ones just like a little introduction thingy. Anyhoo, I better stop this A/N or I'll go on all night. On with the show!**

Watson never meant to find them. It was an accident, a mistake but it had ruined everything. He wasn't, by nature, a curious being, but it was incredibly easy to lose ones items in baker street. On this particular occasion, he had lost a certain cravat: a gift from a grateful patient, and he had promised to wear it. It could have been anywhere: his belongings always ended up in the strangest of places and for all he knew it could have been their. He did find something, just not what he was looking for. He could have- no he should have- just shut the box and walked away to carry on looking, but it _did _look interesting and he _was _looking for new material to write about. He sat on the floor his legs crossed as he examined the box. It was old, that was plain, but well cared for as if it was of great importance. Once he realised this, he knew it must be very personal, something that he wasn't ready to share yet, maybe never. Watson respected his friends privacy and wasn't about to pry into something not intended for his eyes. He arranged the items neatly inside the box: a habit he had picked up from his times in Afghanistan, when something caught his eye. It was but a couple of words but they told Watson what the contents of the box was focused on. He didn't know what to do know. He would never betray Holmes but he wasn't exactly sure if this counted as betrayal. Here was the answer to the one question Holmes' would never answer no matter how many times Watson asked. Instead of his long detailed explanations he was prone to give, he would answer in brief with a tone of finality only to clear in his voice. Watson mentally argued with himself (don't we all) but he finally made his decision. No matter how much he may thirst for this knowledge, his friendship would come first: always. Should he mention it to Holmes? 'no!' he told himself firmly. No need to do that to him but would he notice. For the second time, Watson examined the box. Their was no dust on the box and there hadn't been when he found it. His friend must look through it often. He would notice, he notices everything. His brain catalogues everything down no doubt including the order and position of the items in the box. Watson couldn't duplicate that, he couldn't even remember it and anyway it would have to be exactly right. Watson sighed. It was inevitable but he still wished there was another way. He stood up, grabbed the box and headed towards the bedroom door. He took a deep breath before opening it.

**What's in the box? How is Holmes' going to react? Find out next time. It wont be long because tomorrow, well technically today since its past 12, is my last day of the school before I break up for seven weeks. Yay! I will finally have time to do stuff including carrying on writing this and other stuff. **


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2 has finally arrived! Computer troubles and homework have kept me away from fanfiction but not anymore! Thanks for all the reviews and Enjoy!**

Pushing the door open, the box tucked under my arm, I entered the room. My dearest friend was sitting in his chair, a pipe between his lips and his violin in his hands. He didn't turn around or in anyway acknowledge my presence.

I strode forward sitting in my own chair and placing the box on my lap glancing at holmes as I did so. At a loss as to what to say, I stayed silent, nervously drumming my fingers on the arm of the chair. The silence was tense and uncomfortable a contrast to our usual atmosphere.

Finally, I could bear it no longer. Hesitantly, I said:"Holmes, you seem distracted. Do you have a case at the moment?"

Turning slowly around, taking the pipe from between his teeth, Holmes shook his head.

"No, Watson. I do not."

"Oh"

Holmes turned back around and picked up his violin, beginning to play a slow, mournful melody.

"Holmes..."

"Watson, if you want my permission to look through that box then you need only ask."

"Yes, well... Can I?"

"Of course" his reply was too short and curt for my liking.

"Are you sure you meant that? I could just put it back and forget about"

"No!" He cut me off with a violent gesture of his hand.

"No, it is too late for that my dear Watson. It will pray on your mind your natural curiosity will see to that. You won't mention it but you will find yourself, at idle times, wondering about its contents and what your somewhat vivid imagination can conceive could very well be worse than what it is. Any truth is better than doubt after all."

"Well then, I think that you should commentate we wouldn't want me drawing any false conclusions after all."

"I would love to" Holmes said standing up "but unfortunately I must leave for a short while"

"Your going? But where?"

"Out. To the diogenes club to be more precise" he answered picking up his cane and placing his hat on his head."And so I bid you farewell."

Before I could stop him he had flung the door open and left, leaving me to ponder over why he had left to visit his brother Mycroft for that must have been his reason for visiting that particular club.

He had no case and I would laugh at anyone who suggested that Holmes would visit his brother on purely social grounds. He was not in want of money or anything else Mycroft could offer, except maybe advice.

And what could Holmes possibly want advice about.

My mind, and eyes, strayed to the box. My curiosity battled with my conscience but eventually it won out and I once again opened the box. I picked up the first thing I saw, a letter.

The paper it was written on was stiff and obviously not cheap though very old. The ink had started to peel but was still legible.

The writing, was strong, bold and clear and also strangely familiar. It was not Holmes', of that I was sure, but possibly some relative of his.

It was addressed to my friend and ran like this:

_Sherlock,_

_Don't reply to this but listen to what I have to say; I'll know if you have. Don't mention this letter to anyone, it will only get me, and most likely you, into trouble. At 11 tonight, come to my room and knock very softly at my door, I'll hear you. Don't wait for a reply; just come straight in and quietly shut the door behind you. I have something I would like to give you but I am afraid that father would not be too happy if he were to find out. And finally, don't leave this letter lying around, in fact, dispose of it in anyway you see fit._

_Mycroft_

This only succeeded in confusing me further. What was this gift of Mycroft's? Why would their father disapprove? Did they communicate via letter often?

I would have to wait until Holmes came back to find out.

I picked up a second letter. Appearing to be of the same age as the first, and with the same writing I thought that it might give me some clue.

_Sherlock,_

_Ignore them. I know its not in your nature, but you can not retaliate. Look at what happened today. You'll have the last laugh in the end, I promise you but for now you must be patient. Getting into trouble will do no good and you get into enough as it is. It may seem unfair, and that is because it is, but little brother life is never fair and you're old enough and clever enough to understand that. _

_I would be grateful if you didn't mention this to anyone by the by,_

_Mycroft_

And I read one more letter:

_Dear Mycroft,_

_I know that I have already said this, but I shall say it again anyway. Thankyou. And to show you that I mean what I say, I have something for you too. Meet me in my room at 11 and I shall give it to you. I am only giving it to you in secret because father may question why I am giving you anything. _

_Sherlock_

Unfortunately, this helped in no way and I was left pondering my many questions until my friend returned.

**I'm sorry to say that chapter 3 won't be up anytime soon but after Christmas expect lots of, hopefully regular, updates**

**And if you want me to be happy then: REVIEW!**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: I surprise even myself sometimes! All the lovely reviews made me feel guilty so I found time and a laptop so I could write this. Anyway, enjoy!**

Holmes soon returned throwing something into the corner. I had too many questions to care about what it was.

I was right in thinking that he had been to visit Mycroft. Apparently, as the contents of the box also concerned Mycroft, Holmes had though it best to tell him.

"You see Watson" Holmes said "it concerned many people but I have no need to tell them now. It concerns them no longer. They are either dead or I care not what they think or want."

Their was something surprisingly bitter about the way he said it but I was too anxious to question him that I thought nothing of it.

I brought the three letters over to him and asked him to explain what they were about.

He took them from me and read them. He did not smile but wore a rather pleased expression. I could tell that these letters brought joy to him to read again. A look of fond remembrance danced across his face and he looked so thoughtful that it reminded me of the time in the case I titled the naval treaty when he took a most singular interest in a rose voicing his rather strange philosophy on flowers and the goodness of providence.

When he had finished reading, he sat in silence and I thought it best not to disturb him.

Suddenly and unexpectedly, he burst into speech: "This one," he said waving the first letter at me "was written when I was 5. Mycroft treated me, at least intellectually, the same as others his age and with good reason too. There was no one of particular intelligence that he knew. I did not ignore the letter as he feared I might but I obviously did keep it. You know that I have a horror of throwing away documents and I did even then. Besides, I kept all of Mycroft's letters and used them as a structure to improve my writing. You see," and he said this rather grudgingly "I wanted to impress Mycroft as younger brothers always do. I was embarrassed by my childish attempts to write something more mature sounding and so used his letters as a guidance. I ran a risk of them being found but I hid them well and since no one new of them they would not try to find them anyway."

"So, what did Mycroft give you?" I inquired

"Have you ever heard of that old saying: 'curiosity killed the cat', Watson?"

"Of course, though I don't see how that applies to this situation. Surely it was nothing that bad."

"No,"he said with a laugh "I suppose it was not. Fine I'll tell you. That night, at 11, I snuck out of my room and made my way to Mycroft's without making a sound. I softly tapped at his door, as he had instructed, and entered his room. He was there waiting for me and ushered me in.

"Now Sherlock" he said "remember what I said: do not tell anyone about this." I nodded in understanding and he went to his writing desk where he retrieved a rectangular parcel and handed it over to me.

"Now" he said "don't let father find this. You know what his views are on such matters. And before you open it, what can you tell me about it."

Mycroft had a habit of doing this. He would never give me anything or tell me anything without my trying to work it out first.

"Well," I said "it's some kind of book and its most likely new."

"What type of book?"

"One that father can't know about. That doesn't exactly narrow it down much though. Can I open it, now?"

Mycroft sighed "As impatient as ever, Sherlock. Go on."

I tore off the packaging as quietly as was possible and found that I held in my hands a journal.

It was new as I had said and was of good quality."

"Wait a moment," I interjected "why would your father object to your having a journal? I can't see anything wrong with that?"

"It was more of what I would do with it that he didn't like. You see, Watson, I was a curious child and, for some reason, this seemed to infuriate my father. I loved to experiment and explore and I was always testing new things, comparing, studying and also asking lots of questions.

"Is there a particular reason you have bought this for me?" I asked my elder brother

"To record down the results of those little experiments of yours and to write down your observations. An organised mind, Sherlock, is a great one."

I nodded and thanked him then returned to my room.

From that day on, my gift from Mycroft slowly filled with information and results on a wide range of subjects that interested my young mind. I took it everywhere with me but always made sure it was well hidden.

It wasn't until I was careless and it found its way into the hands of my father that it done anything but good for me."

**Before I forget, for anyone who is interested, check out all the responses to Hades Lord of the Dead's advent calendar challenge. Its only just started but I can assure you that it's lots of fun. If anyone wants to join in the festive fun then just PM Hades Lord of the dead, who I'm sure won't mind you joining in slightly late. **

**And if you're feeling charitable and unscrooge like then please review!**


End file.
